


The Qualifications for a Date

by mosylu



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Caitlin's Birthday, F/M, Fancy Restaurant is Fancy, Is It A Date Or Isn't It, Man I Got So Hungry Researching This, spoiler: it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 08:20:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18149408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosylu/pseuds/mosylu
Summary: They're at an incredibly fancy restaurant, dressed to the nines. The food is amazing, the wine is better. There's candlelight and music and a little dancing. To the casual observer, this would look just like a date. But Cisco knows it's just BFFs out for a birthday dinner, nothing more . . . right?





	The Qualifications for a Date

**Author's Note:**

> I was poking around my drafts recently and found this, and decided to finish it. I wrote most of this long before we learned that Caitlin’s birthday is in February. So please handwave as hard as you can and pretend that Central City is having an unreasonably warm early spring. Or maybe that it’s a more southern city than we thought. Both is good.

Cisco hopped out of the breach and took the sidewalk at just shy of a run. He was late, which should be impossible for someone who could take the back way through dimensions and cover miles like walking from one room to another. But that just seemed to make it easier to procrastinate. Latino time found a way, apparently.

His phone notified him that his destination was on the right, and he looked up. He froze on the sidewalk and swore at himself.

He’d heard this place was fancy. Caitlin had told him this place was fancy. But he’d thought fancy meant pulling out his nicest sportcoat, ironing his slacks, and spending extra time on his hair.

There were guys walking in the door who were straight-up wearing tuxes. And the women were wearing the most gorgeous dresses. Like they’d come for dinner before going to the opera or the symphony or -

He looked down at himself, then rubbed his hand over his face. “Okay, fine, whatever,” he said into his palm. “Caitlin doesn’t care. She picked this place. If she’d thought you needed a tux, she would’ve said so. It’s fine.”

He was just standing here being a coward because when he’d opened his mouth to say, “I’d really like to take you out on a date, which I know might be a little weird because we’ve been friends for most of a decade but I just can’t stop thinking about it lately, about kissing you and holding your hand and seeing you smile just for me.”

… he’d said, “hey, you, where am I taking you for your birthday?”

Coward.

He poked around in his coat pocket for a hair tie and started to pull his hair back. Then he remembered she liked it down; she’d told him so a few times. His hands hesitated.

He tugged the tie out, gave his head a quick shake, and flicked a few strands out of his eyes. Le Fancy Pants or whatever was just going to have to deal with his hair down.

He rolled his shoulders and started toward the front of the restaurant, hoping she hadn’t been waiting too long.

“Cisco?” a breathless voice called, and he spun around. Caitlin was coming up the sidewalk behind him.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said. “I lost track of the time and then the cab took forever to get to my place and well, I’m here.”

“Hey,” he said. “No big, I just got here myself. Got caught up doing something last-minute - ” Trying to figure out which shirt made him look the hottest, but let her think it was something Vibey or mechanical. “- and I just breached around the corner.”

She smiled, and he suddenly clocked to how good she looked. She was wearing a strappy dark green dress that showed off the architecture of her shoulders and the soft curves of her throat and hinted at the swell of her breasts. Her hair was up, her makeup was on point, her jewelry was sparkly, and her shoes were sky-high.

“You, uh,” he said suavely. “Wow. You look amazing. By the way.”

She blushed and plucked at the sparkling fabric of the sheer wrap around her shoulders. “Thanks. You do too.”

He looked down at himself. “Yeah, I’m going for the celebrity casual look. You know how celebrities can get into five-star places wearing, like, sweatpants because they’re so famous? I’m hoping they think that’s what’s going on here and they don’t kick me out for not being fancy enough.”

“Stop,” she said. “Your outfit is several steps above sweatpants and you look very nice. They will absolutely not kick you out.”

“How can you be so sure?”

She smiled mysteriously and held out her hand. He started to reach for it, heart skipping a beat, and then he saw a couple walk by them with her hand tucked in the crook of his elbow, all Jane-Austen-movie style. Right. Obviously. He immediately bent his arm at the elbow and let her slip her hand into it, feeling a little sad that he couldn’t weave his fingers through hers.

Still, it was nice, having her tucked up next to him like that as he escorted her up the front walk. Maybe that was why old-timey dudes did it.

“This is okay, isn’t it?” she asked at the door. “We can go somewhere else if you’d rather.”

“No,” he said immediately. “No way. Birthday girl gets to pick. This’ll be great.” He opened the door for her and gave a little bow, rewarded with her soft giggle.

The maitre d’s stand was at the base of a set of stairs. He must have heard them approach but he took a moment before looking up. “Good evening, madame, monsieur. Do you have a reservation?”

“No,” Caitlin said serenely.

“Ah, I’m so sorry. I’m afraid we are a reservation-only establishment.” His eyes lingered on Cisco’s loose hair and he looked about zero percent sorry. “If I may recommend the Applebee’s down the street - ”

Caitlin snapped open her itty-bitty purse, extracted a business card with some scribbling on the back, and held it out. The maitre’d took it and looked at it.

Cisco had never seen a human being actually go Blue Screen of Death before. It was educational.

But apparently maitre d’ school, or wherever you went to learn the precise angle at which to look down your nose, also taught the art of graceful backpedaling. “I have just remembered,” he said, handing the card back with a single nervous look at Caitlin. “There has been a cancellation. I can seat you now, madame, monsieur. If you’ll follow me?”

Cisco expected to be led into the big dining room he could see over the maitre d’s shoulder, but instead, he led them up the stairs.

Cisco tugged Caitlin an inch or two closer to his side as they climbed and murmured, “Whaaaaat was that?”

“Just a little leverage,” she said, smiling at him.

The stairs led to what looked like a more exclusive dining room. To Cisco’s surprise - and probably the surprise of all the richie riches sitting there -  the maitre d’ walked them across a corner of the room, opened another door, and up one more half-flight.

That let them out onto a balcony just big enough for a single table, overlooking a gorgeous garden, slowly turning golden as the sun inched toward the horizon.

“Oh,” Caitlin said, wide-eyed.

“Wow,” Cisco said.

Monsieur Snootface pulled out a chair. “Madame?” he asked, inviting her to sit.

Cisco didn’t know if he would have gotten the same treatment, but he sat down quickly before it became an issue.

Monsieur Snootface dissolved for a moment, then reappeared with a basket of bread and a pitcher of water. He filled two of the goblets on the table and said, “Your server will be with you momentarily,” and bowed very deeply before disappearing.

The tablecloth was snow white and silky smooth. There was a small phalanx of forks, a little army of plates, a battalion of goblets and cups. Each of them clearly had a very specific purpose.

Perched on top of the plates was a napkin, folded in some mysterious serviette origami into something like a swan, or a cloud, or maybe the Sydney Opera House in linen miniature.

Yep. This was the fanciest of the fancy, right here.

“Just a little leverage?” Cisco asked, shaking out the napkin and laying on his lap, then reaching for the bread, which was perfectly warm and soft. There was a round dish of fancy whipped butter with herbs, sitting next to what looked very much like a doorbell in the center of the snowy white tablecloth. He considered it - modern art? Avant-garde centerpiece?

Caitlin was still staring at their view. “Apparently it was more leverage than I realized.”

Cisco waited a moment, buttering the bread, then said, “Uh, yeah, no, that’s not gonna cut it, Dr. Snow. I’m going to need the whole story.” He took a bite of bread and thought _oh, hi, I’m also going to need a forever supply of this stuff._

“Well, she didn't share the whole story. But the day after my birthday, I found this in Frost’s jacket pocket.” Caitlin extracted the little card from her purse again and held it out to him. It was a business card with the name of the restaurant and the owner printed on heavy cardstock. Remembering that the maitre d’ had read the back, Cisco flipped it over.

_The holder of this card can get a table at any time, for any reason and will be treated as the most honored guest in the house._ And the owner’s initials.

Cisco goggled at it. Clearly, that had been enough to get them the most exclusive table and Monsieur Snootface falling all over himself.

“Caitlin, how did she get this?” He remembered the nervous looks Monsieur Snootface had kept giving Caitlin and shot a look at the stairs, suddenly horrified. “Oh, shit, she didn’t - with _that_ guy?”

_“No,”_ Caitlin said, her voice going two-tone. For a moment, Killer Frost’s glowing eyes glared at him. “I do have standards, Vibe.”

“Sorry,” he said swiftly. “Sorry, sorry.”

Caitlin shook her head and blinked, eyes going brown. “No, nothing like that,” she said in her normal voice. “Like she said, she has standards. And besides, we have a very firm agreement regarding casual sex when she has control of our body.”

“Thank god,” he said. “Because there’s not enough brain bleach in the world. How did she get it, then?”

“Apparently she stopped an armed robbery here one night.”

“She did? Awwww. She took down the bad guys _and_ got you a birthday gift?”

Caitlin’s eyes went unfocused for a minute. “Stop. You were not.”

“What?” he asked, used to hearing half of the conversation when she was talking to her colder half.

She focused on him again before rolling her eyes. “She’s saying she actually planned to sell it on eBay.”

Cisco laughed. “Upholding the law on her own, without any of us nudging her, that’s pretty good. She’s really gotten better.”

“I guess she has,” Caitlin said, smiling a little. 

Her eyes went white again. "All right, that's enough of that. This is Caity's birthday dinner, so stop talking about me. I'm going to sleep. You kids have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"What's that leave?" Cisco said, but Caitlin's eyes were already brown again.

A server in flawless black and white came out. “Madame, monsieur, welcome,” she said, looking like she’d been prepping for their visit for the past hour and not probably gotten told about it five seconds ago. “I am Thanh and it will be my privilege to serve you tonight. Is this a special occasion?”

“Her birthday,” Cisco said.

She smiled brightly. “Happy birthday, madame.”

“It was actually last week,” Caitlin mumbled.

“But we’re celebrating tonight,” Cisco said.

“Excellent,” Thanh said. “I shall bring out champagne. Our chef wishes you to know that menus will not be necessary since he will be designing your meals personally.”

Cisco swallowed, trying not to remember the old adage that if you had to ask the price, you couldn’t afford it. “Tasting menu, sweet. That’ll be fun. Um, how much does that run?”

Thanh tilted her head. “Monsieur, I’m so sorry I wasn’t clear. Tonight’s meal is entirely on the house.”

Caitlin glanced at him, wide-eyed, and Cisco mumbled, “Okay,” under his breath.

“Does madame or monsieur have any allergies or dietary considerations our chef should know about?”

“No,” Caitlin said. “No restrictions, thank you for asking. But - excuse me.”

“Yes? Is there anything you require, madame?”

“You’ve all been wonderful so far. But I have a question. The woman who gave us this card is … is a … ”

“Friend,” Cisco supplied. It was close enough. “She’s a friend of ours.”

“Yes, but she can be a little rough around the edges,” Caitlin added, winning the Understatement Limbo forever. “And if this amazing hospitality is because you’re scared of her, then thank you very much, but I wouldn’t feel right - ”

For the first time, the server broke character. “Oh, no,” she said. “No, she _saved_ us. I was working last week and it was the busiest night we’ve had all month. If we’d lost that deposit, the restaurant might have had to close. Madame, this is sincere gratitude.”

“Oh,” Caitlin said.

“I mean, she did freeze Brett’s feet to the floor, because he was getting in the way, so he might be a little scared of her. But the rest of us are so incredibly grateful. It really is our privilege to return the favor, even in a small way.”

“Who’s Brett?” Caitlin asked.

“Monsieur Snootface?” Cisco guessed.

Thanh coughed violently in a way that meant _yes_ and _I’m trying not to shriek with laughter right now_ and _OMG everyone is going to hear about this in the kitchen._ Cisco grinned.

She got ahold of herself and reverted back to the poker-faced server. “Champagne will be along shortly.” She nodded at the mysterious doorbell art piece. “Please ring that bell if you need me for anything at all.” She disappeared, leaving them alone.

Cisco looked across the table. Caitlin hadn't even shaken out the napkin, and she was smoothing her hand over the tablecloth, her brows furrowed.

“You’re still not sure about accepting all this,” he said.

“I mean,” Caitlin said. “It’s so much.”

He ate another piece of bread. “She saved their bacon. Did you hear her about what it would have meant to lose that money?”

“That seems like an exaggeration. One night’s profits were that important? Surely they do most of their business on credit cards now.”

“Not as much as you’d think. And if I had to guess, the robbers wanted all the servers’ tips, too.”

Her eyes went big as Thanh’s gratitude fell into place. “Oh. Yes. Of course, that would have been awful for them. But it really would have been that much of a blow to the business? To lose the cash deposit?”

“Restaurants are like that. You remember my cousin Hector?”

“The one who owned that amazing seafood restaurant?”

“Yeah, the one that went out of business last year.” RIP La Laguna and the best grilled swordfish he’d ever put in his belly. “That was his third one and he’s planning a fourth, because that’s totally normal in the restaurant biz. They all operate right on the edge. This place is fancy and new and probably way deep in the red. Frost saved their bacon big time.”

She scrunched her face a little.

“If it makes you feel better, Barry hasn’t paid for a pizza since 2015,” he said.

She looked around their exclusive balcony, with flowers growing on the railing and from windowboxes. “This is considerably more than a pizza, and free stuff is not why we do it.”

“No, of course it’s not, but you heard her. This is their way of saying thank you, and if you don’t accept it, how are you going to make them feel?”

She blinked. “I didn’t think of it like that.”

“I know. Come on. It’s your birthday dinner and Killer Frost did a good. Are you planning to overuse that little leverage card?”

“No! I’m going to put it away forever after tonight.”

He’d expected that. “So? Enjoy yourself. Have some bread.” He buttered a slice and held it out over the table. “This stuff is the shit, Caitlin. Seriously.”

She took it and bit in. “Mmmm! Oh. Oh my god.” She took another bite.

_“I know,”_ he said.

She chewed and swallowed her second bite. “So you think this is all okay?”

“I think this is all pretty awesome and you deserve every second,” he said.

“Really?”

“Well,” he admitted, “I’m a little annoyed. I mean, this dinner was supposed to be my birthday gift to you.”

She smiled at him. “What I wanted for my birthday was a nice evening with you, and you’re giving me that.”

His heart skipped a beat. He reminded himself that she meant dinner with her best friend, the way they’d been for years, and just because he’d recently started to see her in a different light, he shouldn’t read too much into it when she said things like that.

Thanh glided in with champagne and tiny hors d'oeuvres. She poured a tiny bit into Cisco's wineglass and offered it to him. He'd seen enough fancy dinners on TV to sniff it, take a sip, and nod approvingly so she would pour full glasses for both of them. It did seem like good champagne, at least in his experience of champagne.

When she glided away again, he lifted his glass. "To you, Caitlin. Happy birthday, and many more."

"And many more," she echoed, clinking his glass and taking her first sip. "Oh, that's good."

"Oh, yeah," he said, looking down at the plate in front of him. It didn't look like food so much as delicate, gravity-defying culinary sculptures. "Damn, this is almost too fancy to eat."

"You'd really leave it?" she teased.

"I said _almost,"_ he shot back, picking up one of the dainty tarts and biting in. "Mmmmmmm. Oh, get this in your mouth, girl." He thought about taking mental notes for Hector, but figured his cousin was already planning to come here some night, if he hadn’t already.

As the sun slid below the horizon, the garden below fell into shadow. Candles started appearing on tables, little points of light that illuminated other couples or groups having their own incredible dinner. A few tuning-up noises alerted Cisco to the presence of live music, and after a little searching, he found a cellist tucked away under some willows.

“Check it out,” he said, indicating the musician, who was just starting what sounded like a Pachelbel piece.

“Oh, that’s really nice,” she said. “And look, you can eat in the garden.”

“Yeah,” he said. Some of the couples below them were holding hands across the table, or snuggling up. “This would be a pretty sweet place to bring your date.”

“It would,” she said.

He looked across the table. Caitlin was looking out at the garden, her eyes soft. In the light of the fading sunset, she looked as if she’d been brushed with gold dust, hair and skin and soft sweet mouth.

He wondered if she was wishing someone else were across the table. Ronnie, maybe, in some multiverse miracle. Or one of the guys she’d dated off and on over the past few years. Cisco called them the Gingerbread Men in his head because they all seemed like cookie-cutter copies, slickly handsome lawyers and doctors and businessmen who knew about things like wine and golf.

(He could know about wine if he wanted. How hard was it to know about wine?)

But maybe she really liked one of them and wished he’d brought her here.

She caught his eye and turned to face him fully, smiling. “I’m glad you’re here with me tonight.”

His shoulders unknotted and his heart melted. “Birthday girl’s pick,” he said.

“You’re more than capable of making me pick again,” she retorted. “Remember Garden Sushi?”

“That was for both our protection!” he protested. “I heard Hector’s stories about that place.”

She laughed, reaching out across the table to take his hand. “Anyway, this is beautiful. The food and the garden and the music - ”

On impulse, he said, “Wanna make it more beautiful?”

She looked a question at him.

He got to his feet, still holding her hand. “Shall we?”

He only half-expected her to do it, and certainly not without a little convincing, but she got to her feet at once and stepped into his arms to dance.

The balcony was really tiny, and they could only manage the middle-school style step-shuffle, but that was perfect as far Cisco was concerned - an excuse to hold her close, to smell her perfume, to feel the slide of her hair against his cheek as they swayed together.

If this had been a date, it would have been the most romantic date in the history of ever.

Soft clapping brought him out of his dreamy daze, and his cheeks went hot as he wondered if they were getting applauded. Shit, Caitlin would hate that. But he when he looked down into the garden, everyone’s heads were turned toward the cellist, who had finished her piece. She rose to her feet and bowed briefly before sitting back down and arranging her skirts and her instrument for another piece.

Caitlin had stopped moving when he had. She nudged his shoulder. “Look,” she said.

Dusk had overtaken their balcony as they danced, and a lit tea light in a cut-glass holder had appeared on their table as if by magic. The dirty plates had disappeared.

But the spell of the music was broken. Cisco smiled uncertainly at her. “Guess we’d better quit messing around and eat the rest of our meal.”

“Guess so,” she said.

They sat back down, and Thanh reappeared with tiny bowls of clear, savory soup and another bottle of wine.

It was as delicious as the hors d'oeuvres, but Cisco toyed awkwardly with it, wondering if he’d let himself get carried away, if she was weirded out. Or if maybe she was asking herself the same thing.

He reached for his wine glass and used the motion to glance at her.

She was fiddling with her earring, but when she caught his eye, she dropped her hand and smiled brightly. “So,” she said. “What are we doing for your birthday next month?”

“To top this?” he said. “I’m thinking yacht.”

“Ooooo,” she said. “Well, Vibe had better get cracking, hadn’t he?”

He peered over the balcony. “What do you think? Do one of these people own a yacht?”

“I think it’s almost certain.”

They relaxed into a giggly speculation on the various rich people in the garden, trying to top each others’ wild suggestions about what tribulations they could save one of them from.

By the time Thanh brought out the main course, some delicate meat wrapped in pastry, with blanched, still-crunchy asparagus on the side, they’d rambled into more general topics. As they ate the entree and then the light salad that came after, they kept talking about this and that, science and nerdery and everything under the sun.

They didn’t get the chance to do this much, Cisco reflected while their salad plates were whisked away. It seemed like they were always too wrapped up in superhero business to just hang out and be together lately.

Even if he’d chickened out on calling it a date, he was glad they’d done this tonight.

Dessert was a kind of warm custard pie, with cherries buried in the filling. It was clafoutis, she told them, paired with a muscat wine from someplace with a hell of a lot of vowels in its name. Cisco was almost too full of good food to dive in, but watching Caitlin take her first bite and close her eyes in bliss convinced him.

Plus, he’d never turned down dessert in his life.

The muscat wasn’t a very strong wine, but as they finished up the dessert and kept talking, Cisco still felt sweetly drunk on Caitlin’s voice and her laugh and the golden sheen of candlelight.

A breeze fluttered the loose hair that curled against her cheek, and he suddenly realized how cool it was, and that the cello music had ended long ago. The garden below them was almost deserted except for busboys clearing off the tables. “Whoa,” he said. “What time is it?”

Caitlin checked her phone and squeaked. “This place closed an hour ago!” She jumped out of her chair and started gathering up her purse and her wrap. “They must be waiting on us so they can clean up.”

Cisco dug for his wallet and pulled out all the cash money he’d brought. Caitlin saw him lay it on the table and opened her mouth.

“Hey,” he said, holding up a hand. “I was going to treat you. Let me leave the tip. Besides, she gave us a lot of her time tonight and I’ve worked for tips before. She deserves every cent here.”

“Will she accept it?”

“If we sneak out fast enough, she’ll have to.” He took her arm again and escorted her back into the building and down the stairs.

They met Thanh at the base of the stairs. “Are you leaving us so soon?” she asked, with no hint of sarcasm whatsoever.

“I think we both know it’s not soon at all,” Caitlin said. “Thank you so much. You were so kind, and the food was delicious, and your restaurant is beautiful.”

“We’ll definitely be telling all our friends,” Cisco said. “Thank you.”

“Again, the privilege was all mine. Please come back anytime. Have a lovely night,” she said, and went over to open the front door for them.

He went down the steps first and held out his hand to steady Caitlin as she stepped carefully down them in her ice pick heels. At the base of the steps, he expected her to drop his hand, but she held on.

Thanh stood smiling at them from the doorway, and didn’t shut the door until they were at the end of the walk.

“You know,” Caitlin said as they strolled hand-in-hand down the sidewalk, late-night traffic whisking by them, “she thought we were there on a date.”

His heart skipped a beat. “Well, that makes sense,” he said. “Look at you, all dolled up.”

“And you,” she said.

“We both look pretty fancy, don’t we?”

“And there was the dancing, and how we talked for hours - ”

His cheeks felt hot. Why was she saying this? Did she wish it had been a date, or saying how it could have been mistaken for one by an outside observer? Someone who didn’t know they were just friends, just Caitlin and Cisco, and had been for years …

He managed a laugh. “Well, if this was a date, I would have kissed you by now.”

“Okay,” she said.

He stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk. She walked another step before his hand, still linked to hers, tugged her to a halt. She turned.

“What?” he said.

A slow blush crept up her neck. “I said okay. You said you would have kissed me and I said okay.”

“I - I know, I heard you.” He stared at her, all off-balance. “What - why?”

The blush crept higher. She dropped his hand and turned her head away, brushing a loose strand of hair back into place.

The silence stretched out between them, horrible, awkward.

“Never mind,” she said finally. “Let’s - ”

Oh. Oh shit. This was it, his big chance, and he was just standing here like a moron, goggling at her, asking why, when -

He stepped forward and caught her hand, pulling it down so he could press his lips to hers.

She caught her breath, he could feel it against his mouth, and then she was kissing him back, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Of everything he’d tasted tonight, her lips were the most delicious. She went to his head like the wine, swirling around in a dance of jubilation and _finally_ and _this is even better than I imagined._

Because it was. So much better.

It could have been minutes or hours or maybe days when they pulled apart again. Too short as far as he was concerned. Her eyes were starry in the streetlights and she was smiling at him. From the way his face ached, he suspected he was grinning like a fool right back at her.

“So,” she said, twisting her fingers in one of his curls. “This officially qualifies as a date now?”

“Sure does,” he said, and kissed her again. “You wanna go on another one?”

“Mmmm. When?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Okay,” she breathed, and then they were kissing again.

* * *

They celebrated his birthday a few weeks later. It definitely topped the date at the restaurant.

They didn’t leave his apartment for the entire weekend.

FINIS


End file.
